A/N: I am SO sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I had this chapter written, and I'm not sure why I never got it posted up, except about the time I wrote this, my life pretty much turned upside down and this whole past year has just been one weird thing after another. Hopefully though, it has all settled down and I'll have more time for writing. I have the chapter after this written as well, so I promise it won't take almost a year to get the next chapter up! I hope you like it!

They were completely surrounded by people. When they had first walked in, they seemed to have been the only people that were in there, but now, there were people everywhere.

The front of the clock at the top of the staircase had been very visible at the beginning, but now people, men and women both, were walking in front of it, to where it wasn’t as easy to see.

That was when Hermione looked down. Gone were the muggle street clothes that she had worn in, including a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Instead, they were replaced by a light pink dress that was gathered at the shoulder, held in place by a pink rose. Slowly, she lifted her hand up toward her head and found my fingers touching an elaborate up-do, that had only worn once before, back during the Yule Ball.

Cautiously, she took a glance over at Draco, whose clothes had changed as much, he had worn a black dress shirt with black dress pants, as close to a compromise between the wizard world and the muggle world that he could get away with, but now he was wearing a tuxedo, completely with a bow-tie and a cummerbund. In any other instance, she would have laughed at his appearance, but at this point in time, she and Draco were each other’s only connection to - whatever it was that was going on.

Hermione shook her head. Surely there was a logical explanation for this, she thought. Either that, or she had fallen harder than she thought, was in a coma somewhere and this was her brains way of healing.

“What did you do?” Draco hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her in toward him. That was when she realized the pressure of his hand hurt, which meant it wasn’t a dream, at least if everything she had ever been taught about dreams was real.

“Me? You think I did this?” she said, outraged.

“Of course, who else? This seems just like the kind of thing that you would have dreamed up, just to piss me off.”

"Is everything alright, Miss?" a voice asked, and both of their heads turned to see who was talking.

A man, if you could call him that, who appeared to be about twenty, if that, gave a questionable look toward them. He carried a silver tray in his hands, which was filled with food.

She nodded dumbly, though she wasn’t exactly sure if she was alright or not, and didn’t think that anything was alright at all.

Though, as the seconds flew by, Hermione was beginning to realize that they weren’t in the museum anymore. She knew she should have realized it sooner, but her mind had definitely been occupied. But that wasn't possible, was it? Even in the Wizarding world, things like that didn’t just happen. They were standing on the bottom steps of the grand staircase alright, but it wasn't in a museum, and it wasn't a movie set either, as she discovered. There something so…real about what was going on.

The people who were surrounding them began making their way down a hallway of sorts, and Hermione had a feeling that they should follow them.

“What are you doing?” Draco hissed.

“Trying to figure out what is going on,” she hissed back.

Unfortunately, they weren’t being as quiet as they thought they were and people were starting to stare.

“Look, Granger, I agreed to come to this God-forsaken place because I was told it was going to be part of my final marks. No one mentioned everything else that was involved.”

“And you think I did?”

By now, it seemed as though everyone was staring.

Hermione took a deep breath.

“Mal-Draco,” she started, with a voice that sounded fake even to her. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re going to have the make the best of it. And because it seems that as much as I hate to admit it and wish it weren’t true, it seems as though you and I are each other’s only links to what we know. Which means, as much as I hate to admit it, we’re going to have to get along.”

He rolled his eyes. “I called a truce, didn’t I? When we got started on this journey.”

She nodded. “Now, let’s stop arguing and follow the rest of these people to what appears must be dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

He hadn’t noticed it until she mentioned it, but his stomach was rumbling. When was the last time they had eaten, anyway?

“Rose! Jack!” a loud, booming voice called, causing both Draco and Hermione to turn their heads in the direction of it.

Why are those names so familiar? Draco wondered. It seemed to be there, right on the tip of his tongue, and yet he just couldn’t quite pin-point it.

“There you are!” the same voice said, this time standing right behind them.

“I’ve been wondering if you’d made it down here already,” she said, her attention on Draco.

Draco just stared at her. Who was this woman and why was she talking to him? He didn’t even KNOW her.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said, not exactly sure how to start her question.

The woman didn’t say a word, but turned her attention to her.

“I think you must have the wrong -” but she didn’t get a change to finish because someone else walked up to them at that point.

A tall, dark-haired man stepped off the bottom step at that moment and walked up right behind Hermione, placing a hand on her shoulder. Immediately she tensed up.

“There you are, my little lamb,” he whispered, in a voice that literally made her skin crawl.

“A-hem,” Draco said, ready to pull himself back into this conversation. He couldn’t stand it when he was being ignored, even it was by what appeared to be nothing but muggles, and unpleasant ones at that.,

The man gave a curt look at him.

“I’m glad to see that you could join us, Dawson,” he said in a voice that spoke for itself, saying that he meant anything but what it was that he had just said.

Gingerly, Hermione led a hand up to her head, trying to ward off the headache she could feel coming on. There was something very familiar about all of this, and it was making her head spin.

Rose. Jack. Dawson.

Then it hit her. She and Draco were on the Titanic still alright, only this time it was the real thing. And they weren’t Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger anymore, but somehow, someway, as they had travelled back… had they really turned into Rose Dewitt Bukater and Jack Dawson?